


am i your demon yet

by nereid



Category: The Wicked + The Divine
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 18:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20643872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nereid/pseuds/nereid
Summary: Baph might taste good on her tongue but he does not sit well on her heart.





	am i your demon yet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clytemnestras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/gifts).

> written for the prompt: am i your demon yet, which i shamelessly made into the title.

The nature of it is that she never comes to Baph. Where Baph is, there is also the Morrigan and ancient gods and regret bleeding out of Laura like blood did not quite bleed out of Ananke. Ananke was made of lies and belief and Laura knows this is what gods are and that her bones are made of it, too. It does not mean she has to like it. Or spend time around it.

It would follow then, that she does not want to be around Baph, like she does not want to be around Baal or Minerva or Cass. It would follow, except it does not. It is not something she is proud of, but she is not proud of most things. Baph might taste good on her tongue but he does not sit well on her heart. He makes her want to have it resized, have her make an entire room in it for him and devote it to him and ask for forgiveness until he grants it. Feminism is good and emancipation is better but she does not know how to emancipate herself from herself.

It is easier to have Baph come to her. That makes it feel more like Baph's choice, and less like hers. More like another sin, and less like a quest for redemption. Baph should not be a quest for redemption, she knows this. He is not a quest of any kind, no one is. He is a god also, and as all of them, made of lies and belief, and she wonders which one is it that makes him come to her. There is no discernible rhythym to it. She likes this, like she likes the way they fuck. Mostly, they are quiet. Sometimes, he cries. Sometimes, she cries. He holds her hips like a lifeboat and she feels like an anchor. They never drown, but she sometimes wishes they would. They share a cigarette afterwards like the fucking cliche that they are, and they do not talk about it, except sometimes when the part of him made of belief wins against the part made of lies.

"You know, I used to think it'd be great to be a pop star, cause they aren't scared of anything, and I thought to myself, what a great way to die."

"Do you still want to die?"

"Nah, girl, I'm not that goth."

The part made of lies mostly wins.

She never tells him if she wishes she would die. He never asks. She thinks this is how he is, too kind to ask questions that might hurt. Because he never asks Cass if she would like to know the future, or Dyonisus if he would like for everyone to just dance. Dyonisus is hive minds and Cass is knowing even when she does not want to, and Laura is an underground god. All gods are made of belief and lies, which is to say they are made of stories. Underground gods are made of stories, and they are made of dying.

Laura looks at him sometimes when he is sleeping, out of regret or repentance, and wishes she'd have known him when they were both human. It is comforting to think they could have known each other, and that they could have loved each other. When she says love, she does not mean just love. She means they could have adopted a dog and named him "Boy" if it was a boy, and "Girl" if it was a girl, and laughed at this even after it stopped being funny. She means cheap beer and a river side house, overlooking the river and skinny dipping in the river. She means arguing over Hozier, barely scraping by, matching leather jackets and smiles, taking showers together and him going down on her while the shower cabin fills with steam from the hot water and laughing when he tickles her and her fingernails digging into his shoulders, burning eggs for breakfast and eating old toast instead, arguing over who takes the car to the mechanic and going together, knowing he likes milk in his tea, bitching about parents and matching black nailpolish. She means being happy, and she means a life. It is nice to think so, even if it is too late, even if it has always been too late, because little Laura wanted godhood, and look, it is exactly what she fucking got.

Always, she thinks this is the last time she will see him. She thinks Badb will take him away from her, even if the Morrigan does not. She thinks she would want to keep him for herself, even if was not for him reminding him she could be more human than she was. Not by a lot, but perhaps by enough to scrape by.

The nature of it is that she never comes to Baph. Where Baph is, there is also a beginning of a story, something that could have been, something that would neither be a tragedy nor a comedy, not a demon like her or a god like her, but made out of everything in between. 

The nature of it is that she never comes to Baph, even when she wants to, but he comes when she wants him to. This makes her feel like a god in ways she would not admit to, but the rush from the power feels as good as if she did. The power to destroy is not the same as the power to create, but she is the Destroyer, not the Creator. With all her appreciation for him, it is so temptingly close, the idea of destroying him, or making him destroy himself on her altar. She could do it, she thinks, when he is kissing her ankle or biting her earlobe or sometimes when he is just looking at her. She tells herself she could, but chooses not to. This is familiar, this is what addicts across time and space have told themselves, another cherished altar to belief and lies. She is a god, so made of belief and lies. She is a god of the underground, so a god of death, so made of belief and lies, which is stories, and made of dying, which is also a story, and all stories die. That she used to be something else crosses her mind, but only in passing, as all irrelevant thoughts do. It is a matter of persistence only, forgetting that she is human and remembering only that she is a god. The power feels good, her mind tells her, and Baph feels good, her skin tells her, and Baph tells her she feels good, and that feels like power and he reminds her that she is a god, and a god means many things, lies and belief, stories and death, the Destroyer, Ananke called her, and there is no greater power a destroyer has than to destroy herself.

Little Laura wanted godhood, and look, it is exactly what she fucking got.


End file.
